There is an insistent tendency among serious social scientists to think of any institution which features rhymed and singing commercials, intense and lachrymose voices urging highly improbable enjoyment, caricatures of the human esophagus in normal and impaired operation, and which hints implausibly at opportunities for antiseptic seduction as inherently trivial. This is a great mistake. The industrial system is profoundly dependent on commercial television and could not exist in its present form without it.
My father had died, and very swiftly, too, of cancer of the esophagus.
He was 79. I am 61. In whatever kind of a 'race' life may be, I have very abruptly become a finalist.